


Laughter Without Reason

by whimsicalmuse



Category: Hetty Wainthropp Investigates, Taggart (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Crossover, First Time, M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2005-07-15
Updated: 2005-07-15
Packaged: 2018-08-07 20:39:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,216
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7728922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/whimsicalmuse/pseuds/whimsicalmuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sex. Gentle, fluffy first time sex. Hetty/Taggart Crossover.</p><p>Mentions of vensre?s          <a href="http://www.livejournal.com/community/jgcrossing/1536.html">Anchor</a> verse which is a lovely fic everyone should read.<br/></p>
            </blockquote>





	Laughter Without Reason

**Author's Note:**

> Note from Shirasade: this story was originally archived at the [Monaboyd.net Archive](http://fanlore.org/wiki/Monaboyd.net), which was closed in September 2014 due to software issues and a lack of new submissions for several years. To preserve the archive, I began manually importing its works to the AO3 as an Open Doors-approved project in October 2014. I e-mailed all authors about the move and posted announcements, but may not have reached everyone. If you are (or know) this author, please contact me using the e-mail address on the [Monaboyd.net Archive collection profile](https://archiveofourown.org/collections/Monaboyd_Archive/profile).

How could he want something he scarcely knew how to describe? Why did he have the rushed pressure at the base of his back at night, a low simmer that the cool breeze from the open window by his bed could not stave. Not even the gentle billow of the curtains could lure his eyes to close, and tamp out the rushing in his veins. And Geoffrey, oh, how patient he was with Jamie, never being short and irritated by the tangle of feelings Jamie battled with.

He saw the mix in Jamie’s eyes, felt the tension rolling off his body, knowing, just as Jamie did, that each touch, each caress was both too much, and not enough.

Things were changing between them, and Geoff could wait, would wait, until the new feeling was not so raw, and Jamie could sort it out, and in his own way, figure out how to ask for what he wanted.

What neither could be prepared for was just when and how Jamie figured it out.

Jamie knew an hour before dawn one summer morn, when the sky was still tinted midnight blue and the birds were still sleeping in their nests. The heat was almost oppressive, a wet blanket of sticky and Jamie had tossed most all of the night, trapped between the static outside his skin and the rolling of his veins. Despite his shifting Geoffrey didn’t stir, too worn from their day of sunshine and laughter, and from the effort to keep Jamie distracted from the crawling beneath his skin.

And Jamie might have let him sleep; might have left him to his dreams and soft sleep smile, were it not for the heat of him pressing against Jamie, too close and alive, and yet, as usual, oh so far away. His hips pressed into the soft of Jamie’s belly, and not for the first time, something stirred low in Jamie’s abdomen, causing a blush to creep up his neck.

It was not the first time this happened, that would be an impossibility given his age and the presence of the man who knew him like no other, but yet, it was something that was always so difficult to cope with. The rush started again, low in his back, and this time it radiated to his front, down an invisible line of his stomach, flaring and pooling at his belly button. He wanted to cry out, to run from his own skin and yet stay and marvel at the nature of things, but instead, he chose to find his support in his anchor, so he fixed his attention onto Geoff. The young man was still sleeping, oblivious to the silent turmoil unraveling beside him, and Jamie decided he was not so sure he wanted to go through it alone.

He’d known what this meant, this rush beneath his skin, and this heat at the back of his neck, he’d seen as much from the movies, but what he’d not known, what he was unsure of, was how lads went about dealing with it. Sometimes, between soft kisses and whisper touches beneath the trees, he’d wanted to ask Geoff, but whenever his lips curled around the question, shyness would prevail, and instead of questions, he’d tuck his head and point up at the leaves, commenting on how the sun played hide and seek with the leaves and the sky.

But this morning, he wanted an answer, because he knew he’d get no rest until he’d found out.

“Geoffrey Shawcross.” He whispered, his rasp loud in the still of the blue morning, and then covered his mouth, and his giggle. He’d have to be quiet, or his mum would come through. “Geoffrey.” He breathed again, his fingers resting on the rise of the man’s collarbone, little sparks dripping from his fingertips.

“Jamie Holmes.” The man murmured, and then nuzzled his neck, the sensation so strong the wind flew from his lips, and he squirmed. Geoff looked up, his eyes the same color as the dawn streaked sky, and Jamie wondered how he’d ever found someone like him. “Good morning, Jamie.”

“I have a question.” Jamie asked, and swallowed. He’d have to say this, and say it right, or...

“At,” Geoff sat up from the bed, and peeped at the clock. “Five in the morning?”

Jamie ducked his head; his lashes flush against his cheeks. “Yes.” The movement pressed his hips up, and in Geoff’s shifting his thigh crossed and covered Jamie’s putting it right in the path of Jamie’s hips.

“Oh.” Geoffrey remarked, his cheeks as red as Jamie’s.

Oh.

“How…”

Geoffrey sat up then, wide awake, and scrubbed his hand over his face.

“I’ve never…”

“Me neither.”

Oh?

“With a lad, that is.”

Oh.

Something close to disappointment rose in Jamie’s throat.

Oh.

“But…”

But what?

“Are you sure Jamie? You don’t have to, not because of me…”

Jamie’s fingers found the ridges of the collar of Geoff’s shirt, and with much resolution he forced his eyes to lift. He wanted to make sure Geoff saw him clearly.

“I want to.”

Air brushed against Jamie’s face, hot and wet, and he closed his eyes. Already it was almost too much…too much.

“Okay.”

Geoffrey scrubbed his face. “Okay. Um. How do you…”

He repositioned himself, until he was situated atop Jamie, remembering because he was wonderful like that, how sometimes Jamie loved pressure, loved the press above him, until he was complete, and just still.

Just still.

Geoffrey’s thighs pressed onto Jamie’s, his thin frame flush and solid.

Yes.

“Yes.”

Geoffrey smiled. “Yes?”

Jamie wiggled and rested his hands onto Geoffrey’s biceps. “Yes.”

“We have to um.” Geoff’s eyes roved down, surveying the state of their dress.

“Oh!” Jamie gasped, and then tugged awkwardly at his shirt until it was off, and his skin felt raw and sensitized. He shivered, but held fast, the rushing at his spine increased by the flow of air on his skin.

“Jamie,” Geoffrey whispered, his breath caressing the curve of Jamie’s throat. “Jamie.” And then his lips brushed feather light across his neck, leaving a trail of burn mixed with the butterflies beneath his skin. Something akin to fear lurched then, and flashed in his eyes, but then long fingers cupped Jamie’s face a thumb rubbing idly.

“We’ll slow down.”

“Yes please.”

The hands rested onto the top of his shoulders, not moving, just warm and solid, and there.

“Jamie,” a whisper against the shell of his ear.

The shiver burned, all the way down until it connected below his belly button. “Jamie, I…”

Love you. Love you.

Yes please. Yes.

Lips connected again with his neck, but this time there was no rush, no jitter, just slow liquid heat, and more.

More.

“More. More. More. More. Please. Yes. More. More.”

Hot breath against the curve of his chin.

“Yes Jamie, yes.”

The mattress dipped, and then there was the shift of clothes, as creamy gold skin flashed before him, warm, and so close Jamie could feel waves of heat hover just above his own skin. But it got better, oh so better, because then Geoffrey pressed himself atop him again, solid, and pressure, and Jamie felt anchored, and whole.

Whole.

Jamie’s fingers trembled and spider-walked up Geoff’s arms, feeling every hair rise, and smoothing down the gooseflesh idly, as their faces rubbed against one another.

Cheek to cheek.

Geoffrey’s hips pressed down, firm, and hard pressure right _there_ and the contact was like free falling, only to be pulled back and caught.

“Geoffrey,” a sigh was captured into a wet kiss, harder, hungrier than ever before, and Jamie obliged, gave, and took more, his pulse thrumming faster than ever. Panic licked at the edged of horizon, but Jamie shoved it back, the curl at his spine, the butterflies under his skin, wanting more than his fear.

They pulled away from the kiss, and Jamie’s tongue lapped at his bottom lip, ever greedy to know to remember the taste, the taste of Him. Like chocolate and tea, and milk. Bittersweet and creamy.

“Creamy.” Jamie’s hands slipped down the curve of Geoff’s spine until it settled at the curve of his bottom, shyly pausing. Asking for permission.

Asking for more.

“More.” He whispered, his eyes locked into Geoff’s moving from side to side as he focused on his face, and let the feeling of the slow rub of their hips wash over him.

It was his fingers not Geoff’s that settled atop the waistband of Geoff’s hips, undoing the drawstring and then slipping the fabric down lower until…

Until Geoff’s hands grasped his.

“Jamie.”

Was he sure? Was this okay?

Did they need to slow down?

“Okay. I’m okay.”

Geoffrey swallowed. “Okay.”

Jamie slid the pants down, until Geoff’s bare thighs touched his, the skin so hot Jamie could feel the burn through the layer of his pyjama pants. The feeling burned again, more than before, and the hard press sent the rush up his stomach and chest again.

But.

But he wanted more.

His hands scrabbled to his waist, tugging impatiently at the fabric, until the wet air hit his skin, tingling and fluttering.

Not as raw as before.

“Amazing,” Geoffrey whispered as his hands grazed over Jamie’s skin crawling down to settle onto his bare hips. His fingers settled in the wells of his hip bones, and then rub softly. Jamie’s eyes opened, and he smiled up at him, a delirious happy swelled in his chest.

This was Geoffrey. Geoffrey Shawcross, and he was with Jamie. He was right there.

“Kiss me,” Jamie whispered, closing his eyes again because his body reacted to the wash of sensations, and he felt as if he was flushed everywhere. Geoffrey did, his dry lips inched across, until they lapped at his bottom lip, and then their tongues flicked gently against one another. Heat pooled, settling the butterflies, and he found his legs bending, rising up and slowly pulling Geoffrey’s bare body down until skin was flush against skin, heat against heat.

Jamie took several breaths, shivering against Geoffrey’s silent still form, and when the rush passed over him, he opened his eyes, and fixed his gaze on Geoffrey.

And then he started to move.

He was unsteady and unsure, but then so was Geoffrey. Neither had a plan or idea where they wanted to go, both just knew that with each rise and fall of their hips, sparks flashed behind their eyes, and the press of Geoffrey’s chest against Jamie’s took their breath away. Somewhere in his peripheral vision Jamie saw the curtains sway in the soft wind, and he was aware of the orange blush that filled the room, but he couldn’t get a focus, because the wet feelings that washed over his skin was _everything._

But there was more. More because when Jamie willed himself to open his eyes, he saw the play of expressions that melted across Geoffrey’s face, and knew he was so loved that his heart could cave in under the weight. Geoffrey’s upper lip was shiny, the first dark whiskers glimmered, and his lips were flush and over sensitized from their kissing. He made soft breathy noises against Jamie’s neck, and each sense, sight, sound, touch, took over the next, until Jamie was so wrapped up he could barely remember to feel his own body.

But he did. Geoffrey’s body temperature rose, and the heat at the base of Jamie’s spine peaked, and he instinctively snapped his hips up with a soft, “Oh!” His legs rested lightly at the back of Geoffrey’s thighs and the blanket slipped down, but the air against his skin wasn’t as distracting as it used to be, because of the heat between his legs.

Jamie rested his head against the pillow, his mouth open. Geoffrey’s hips rubbed and rubbed until fire licked at his chin, and he wanted to burrow into Geoffrey. He wanted to feel the throb from his veins before the blood rushed, he wanted to stay like this suspended between calm and frenzy, and he just wanted-oh, how he wanted.

Oh. Oh…

A dam broke hot and damp between them, and butterflies tickled his throat and fluttered to the ceiling and his bones turned to liquid, and he found himself gasping, as his fingers clung to Geoffrey, anchored in the pale dawn light.

Jamie blinked then, and his eyes came into focus, staring up at the pale blue sky. The birds had started chirping, as the world around him woke up, and he found himself giggling breathlessly. He felt like no one in the world would know his lovely secret. A secret so big and wonderful it couldn’t fit in the room. Geoffrey was limp above him, his breath panting against Jamie’s throat, as his lips tickled and whispered soft secrets. Jamie could feel Geoffrey’s pounding heart against his chest, and pulled him closer.

He wanted to speak, wanted to laugh without reason, but for now, he was content to lie still—stiller than he’d ever been in his whole life. A calm he’d never obtained on his own had settled over him, all because of Geoffrey, and something new and budding squirmed in his chest, happier than the first day of summer.

Jamie hoped the moment would never pass.


End file.
